


Unfiltered Dawn

by fictionalthirst



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Intrigue, M/M, Mindfuck, Psychological Horror, Rough Sex, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-20
Updated: 2021-02-20
Packaged: 2021-03-16 11:28:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29575353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fictionalthirst/pseuds/fictionalthirst
Summary: Gladio is having a very hard time adjusting to life after the light returns. Prompto tries a little too hard to help.Gladio isn't sure who he can trust, and that includes himself.
Relationships: Gladiolus Amicitia/Prompto Argentum
Comments: 8
Kudos: 14





	Unfiltered Dawn

**Author's Note:**

> The dawn has broken, but darkness follows. Trust that the light returns.

The rose-colored sky, filled with soft yellow clouds, is still a sight to behold, even after a couple of weeks since its return. Gladio sits on his bed, the mattress still haphazardly set up near the floor-to-ceiling windows of his apartment, staring out into the rising daylight. He hasn’t cleaned up the place yet, and it still looks like a bomb went off inside it. He’s been too busy since the dawn broke, trying to gather the resources to begin rebuilding the city of their youth, their home. It seems as though some of the citizens of Lucis had used this space to take shelter before succumbing to a lack of supplies or perhaps the daemons of the Long Night.

He pushes out of bed and into the bathroom, the pipes of this building only just repaired, the water still unfiltered, but good enough to wash with. He splashes his face, towelling off, frowning into the mirror at the dark circles under his eyes and the ravages of time and stress on his body.

Gladio straps his gear on and makes his way down from the fourth floor; the elevators not quite ready to be operational. He still prefers to take higher ground to hole up, even though he hasn’t seen a daemon in weeks, even in the darkest part of the night.

The few hunters and members of the Kingsglaive gather at their makeshift headquarters near the Citadel. Plans for the day are discussed, orders given. Gladio agrees to drive out to the Crestholm Channels with a partner to check the reservoir and repair some of the filtration systems there.

“Hey,” Prompto says, from behind him, sounding tired. “Sorry I’m a little late. Rough start today.”

“No problem,” Gladio nods to him. “You want to grab some grub before we head out? I haven’t gotten down to the Mess, yet.”

“Yeah,” Prompto smiles, nodding. “Definitely.”

~~~ 

Prompto has changed over ten years, Gladio reflects. He hadn’t had time to observe it during their journey into Insomnia, too much on his mind.

Once, the ride out of the city would have been a flood of distraction, the blond’s mouth trying desperately to fill the silence. Now, the man barely says two words, instead tapping his hand on his thigh along to the music on the radio, staring out at the long road toward the reservoir.

“Where’re you holing up?” Gladio asks him, grasping for something to permeate the uncomfortable atmosphere.

“Uh,” Prompto starts, not looking away from the road. “I’m over on Amethyst and third. There’s a fairly secure studio apartment there that hasn’t been totally destroyed. And it’s only on the eighth floor so I don’t have to absolutely exhaust myself going home every night. I don’t get winded ‘til the seventh floor.” He grins.

“You should check my building,” Gladio suggests. “I’m on the fourth. There might be some other places in there that aren’t too wrecked.”

“Yeah, maybe,” Prompto says, non-committal.

“Have you seen Ignis?” Gladio asks. It’s a bit of a sore subject, since he seemed to take his leave of them as soon as the sun arose. He’d been taking Noct’s… departure… a bit hard.

“Um, yeah,” Prompto nods, but still won’t look over at Gladio. “A couple of times? He’s not really around much, though. He’s kinda in a bad place.”

“Aren’t we all.”

“I think it might be worse for him, though,” Prompto shrugs. Lays his head on his arms as they hang out the window, like he did so many years before.

Gladio takes offense to that, for some reason. Like the idea that one of them is in more pain than another. They _all_ lost Noct. They all failed. They all built their lives around him, and what they could provide to him. Why does Prompto think Ignis gets to claim the most pain?

He lets the conversation go. Doesn’t want to get into a fight, not now. Not when they have important work to do.

~~~ 

As the afternoon marches on, Prompto seems to warm and his humor and brightness returns to him. Seems like he’s just slow to getting into his groove. Gladio isn’t sure he’s prepared for the full force of _Prompto_ , even as he mourned the absence. Gladio is tired, bone-deep. Aching with all the physical activity he’s been forcing on himself these past weeks.

If he’s honest, he’s barely holding it together.

Having Prompto insistently chattering and trying to draw Gladio into flights of fancy is making the exhaustion even more encompassing. It’s a little disappointing that the guy is so adept at coaxing technology to do his bidding, because Gladio had hoped that he’d have to concentrate and shut up for five minutes.

“Ah, there we go,” Prompto smiles as the lights finally blink on in the channels. “That’ll help me see what the hell I’m doing.”

It’s strange to be this far under the earth, in the pitch darkness - minus their flashlights - without anything trying to kill them. Gladio looks around, blinking away the irritation of the sudden brightness. He remembers the last time they were here, the laughs they had, the frustration of the maze-like tunnels.

Gladio looks back at Prompto, and for a second, under the flickering lightbulb overhead, he sees Prompto as he was back then; less built, his hair longer and more gravity-defying. But just as soon, it’s gone.

“I’m just glad we don’t have to go too deep in here,” Prompto says, working on the breakers. “Remember last time? Getting lost for like three hours? I’m pretty sure I was like, five minutes away from death by the time we got back up top.”

“Well, you’ve definitely levelled up since then,” Gladio says, just watching him work. Nothing to guard against. “Might have been ten minutes away from death, if you knew then what you do now.”

“Ha, ha,” Prompto replies. “Alright, I think we’re good here. You wanna do the honors?” He gestures at the lever in between the consoles.

“Yeah, let the muscle handle it,” Gladio smiles. It feels strange on his face. Prompto beams back at him, seemingly proud of himself for finally drawing out a grin.

He pushes the lever down, and the equipment lights up, the water now rushing rather than slowly streaming.

“Nice,” Gladio praises him. “You did it, Prom. Good work.”

“Well, we gotta go up top and check.” Prompto makes his way to the ladder, hauling himself up and out, the tools on his belt clinking together as he climbs. Gladio follows, blinking as the light drizzle of rain hits his face as they surface.

They jog to the employee break room on the side of the toll plaza, pushing their way in and checking the sink. The pressure is a little bit better, and after they let it run for a few minutes, they fill a cup with the water.

“Alright, Rock-Paper-Scissors to see who’s drinking it?” Prompto grins.

“I’ll do it,” Gladio says, taking the cup from his hand. “You did most of the work. Just get me to the medic in one piece, okay? It’s not a far drive, but with your track record-”

“It was one time!” Prompto insists. “One time I crash the car _a little_ , and I never hear the end of it.”

Gladio knocks the water back, and it tastes cool and clear as he remembers. “Should we get a sample from right here, or wait til we get back?”

“Let’s get a sample from Insomnia,” Prompto nods. “After all, that’s where we want to make sure the water is drinkable.”

~~~ 

Gladio doesn’t fall asleep until he sees the slow crawl of dawn break over the horizon. He needs to know that it’s going to happen again and again. Sometimes he just can’t believe that it’s all real, that he’s going to see another day.

There’s a knock at his door not much later, and Gladio groans and rolls out of his bed, furious and exhausted. He wrenches the door open and finds, of course, Prompto. The smaller man has been absolutely attached at Gladio’s hip since they’d restored the filtration system, and while it had been pleasant for a few days, it has become somewhat tiresome.

“‘Morning, Big Guy,” Prompto smiles, holding out a cup of coffee for him. “I brought breakfast.”

“Prom, I’m taking the day off,” Gladio grumbles, turning around and wandering back to his bed. “I didn’t sleep last night.”

“Oh, okay,” Prompto nods, sitting down beside him. “Yeah, I could use a day off, too. I’ve probably been pushing myself too much. Here!” He holds out a muffin, clearly nabbed from the communal kitchen.

Gladio takes it, sighing. Picks the wrapper off of it.

“I kinda wish there was another decent apartment in this building,” Prompto says, looking around the room. “Running up and down eight flights of stairs is getting kinda old. It’s exhausting.”

_I know what you mean,_ Gladio thinks, uncharitably.

“So what’re you gonna do with your day off? Want some company?”

“No,” Gladio says, firm. “No, I’m going to _sleep_. And not think. And get a _break_.”

“Okay,” Prompto says, clearly taken aback, blinking. He lifts himself off of Gladio’s bed and sees himself out without another word.

Gladio feels like he’s kicked a puppy, but he sets the muffin on the side table nearby and falls back into his blankets and pillows, staring at the sun peeking out from behind the Citadel until he slips once more into sleep.

~~~ 

“Do you mind if we talk?” Prompto says, a few days later. “At your place, maybe?”

“I guess,” Gladio answers, setting down his gear on the weapons table. “About something in particular?”

“I’d like to do it in private,” Prompto looks around, pointedly acknowledging the others milling around.

“Let’s go, then,” Gladio nods toward his building. The sun is sinking into night again, a slight chill in the air without its presence. It crawls over him, the fear of the dark, of the possible return of it’s selfish grip on the world.

Gladio lights the heater before shedding his light jacket, reaching out to take Prompto’s from him, to hang them both near the door. He’s started tidying up, finally, and the apartment almost looks _normal_. All except for the bed still stubbornly left near the wall of windows.

Prompto looks at it with concern, and then back at Gladio with the same expression.

“What’s this about?” Gladio asks, suddenly put off by the pity in Prompto’s eyes.

“I wanted to check in on you,” Prompto says, and it rakes down Gladio’s back with sharp claws. “I hoped that giving you a few days to yourself would improve your mood-”

“What, are you my babysitter?” Gladio asks with venom. “I’m fine.”

“I didn’t mean-”

“You don’t need to _watch over_ me,” Gladio says, practically spitting. “That’s what all this quality time was about, wasn’t it?”

“A little,” Prompto admits. “But I also just want to stick together, ya know?”

“Then why aren’t you giving this little speech to Ignis? And anyway, we did fine apart for ten years,” Gladio replies, his fists tensing. “Nothing’s changed.”

“Gladio,” Prompto says, and the tone is so full of pity that Gladio finally cracks.

“Don’t talk to me like I’m fragile,” Gladio barks. “I’ve moved on. I’m working, I’m living. If _you_ need help, that’s on _you_ , don’t pin it on me.”

“That’s not what I’m doing,” Prompto shouts back. “I’m just trying to show you a little kindness-”

“You want to feel in control,” Gladio says, cruelty beginning to grip him. “You want to wrestle back some kind of normalcy, so you’re latching on to me like you did with Noct-”

Prompto’s face pinches with the sting of Gladio’s words. “You’re grieving, Gladio, this is just part of it, and I know you don’t mean what you’re saying-”

Gladio storms across the space between them, driving Prompto to back up against the wall with a finger pressed to the blond’s chest. A lump of burning pain in his stomach, taking control of him. “Stop condescending to me, Prompto. You don’t know what I’m feeling.”

“I promise you, I do,” Prompto says, calm and serene. “We need you to make it through this, Gladio. Me, Ignis, even Noct-”

Gladio slams his fist into the wall, cutting Prompto off. “He’s gone, Prompto. He doesn’t _need_ anything.”

“It’s okay, Gladio,” Prompto’s hands find his heaving shoulders, slipping over them gently, holding him softly at the nape of his neck, as if it’s going to become something… _more_. “It’s okay to feel it, to come to terms with it-”

Gladio isn’t sure what comes over him, but he leans in and crashes his mouth hungrily over Prompto’s, biting and pressing him against the wall, just to stop his mouth. The small squeak of the blond’s surprise startles him out of it, his breath heaving. Gladio stares down at Prompto, the wideness of his violet eyes mere inches away.

_Well,_ Gladio thinks, making a split-second decision. _This should scare him off._

He dives back in, rough and with the full force of his frustration behind the kiss.

But to his surprise, Prompto kisses back with equal tenacity.

Prompto is surprisingly strong, and wrestles Gladio away from the wall, the two of them crashing into a bookshelf, a side table, and the coffee table as they fight against each other’s direction.

_If this is what he wants,_ Gladio thinks, a new determination gripping him. _I’ll give it to him._

“Gladio,” Prompto gasps, pulling away from his mouth.

“Shut up,” Gladio bites out, forcing their mouths roughly together again, his hands pushing up and under Prompto’s clothes.

Prompto hums in agreement, and lets himself be tossed to the mattress, Gladio’s hands making quick work of his jeans, dragging them down his legs with one forceful tug. The bulge of his excitement strains the dark grey boxer briefs hugging his hips and thighs, and Gladio bites his bottom lip, thinking of how long it’s been since he’s been with _anyone_ let alone one of his lifelong friends.

Pushing any thoughts of anxiety or hesitation away, Gladio rips his own fly open, pushing the band of his underwear down just enough to release his pulsing cock.

Prompto moans into his own fist pressed to his mouth, his other hand palming himself.

“On your stomach,” Gladio tells him, pushing at his hip, tugging the underwear down over the generous swell of his backside. “You ever taken it up the ass before?”

“Y-yes,” Prompto breathes, angling his hips, digging his knees into the carpet just off the edge of the mattress.

“Good,” Gladio says. “I’m not gonna be nice.” He presses three fingers against Prompto’s lips. “Open up.”

He pushes them into Prompto’s mouth, probably just a little too deeply, but the blond doesn’t seem to mind. Moans a little louder, if anything. Once they’re sufficiently soaked, he presses all three against Prompto’s tight ring, pushing them inside one by one, rushing a little to work his ring finger in with the others.

“Gladio, hurry up,” Prompto begs, unexpectedly. Gladio thought for sure he was being rough enough to discourage Prompto from real enjoyment.

“Don’t make me shut you up with my cock in your mouth,” Gladio threatens him. “I’m gonna make it fit in you either way, but you might have more difficulty when you can’t breathe.”

“Nnng,” Prompto groans, stifling any words he might have to say in response.

_This isn’t the disincentive I was hoping for,_ Gladio grimaces down at the writhing, flushed, ecstatic blond under him. He lets the saliva pool in his mouth for a long moment before spitting it into his free hand, spreading it over the head of his cock.

“You sure you can handle this?” Gladio asks him, nestling the bulb against the pucker of his entrance. He presses forward just slightly, letting Prompto feel the girth of it.

“Just do it already, Gladio,” Prompto begs, pressing his face into the mattress in anticipation of the penetration.

“You asked for it,” Gladio returns, and lets his broad hands find purchase on Prompto’s skinny hips as he adjusts his knees.

The slide is not easy, but Prompto’s moans are _definitely_ sounds of wanton pleasure, rather than pain. The insistent grip of his ass around Gladio is overwhelming, and he’s sweating before he even gets halfway inside. He hits a point where he knows he needs to give Prompto a break, not truly cruel enough to force it all in at once. It doesn’t matter, though, when Prompto is pushing back on his own, begging, “Harder, harder”.

_What the **fuck**_ , Gladio grits his teeth as he’s taken to the root, a little pissed off that he can’t seem to do anything to put Prompto off. He adjusts their positions, forcing Prompto under his pistoning hips, slamming roughly inside him without letting up the weight of his pelvis against the blond’s plush ass.

“Yes,” Prompto cries. “Gladio!”

“Shut up,” Gladio grunts, hammering home on every thrust. “Fucking shut up, Prompto.”

“Ah!” Prompto cries, not even bothering to muffle it.

_He just can’t help himself,_ Gladio presses his forehead in between Prompto’s shoulder blades. His hands slide up from Prompto’s hips, his fingers nearly meeting each other around the tiny waist. The surge of desire to break him jolts through Gladio, and his mouth opens to bite down hard on the freckled flesh of Prompto’s back, pulling another high cry from the man’s throat.

Gladio rakes blunt nails down the blond’s ribs, guiding the two of them backward, settling them into a position where more of Prompto’s weight is pressed down onto Gladio’s lap, forcing Prompto to do some of the work of keeping up their rhythm.

He’s really, _really_ good at it, rolling his hips and driving himself down on the intrusion of Gladio’s manhood with precise and targeted thrusts.

_Where the hell has this guy been learning to **fuck?**_ Gladio breathes through his nose, trying to hold his composure. 

“Gladio,” Prompto moans. “I’m gonna come.”

“No, you’re not,” Gladio grunts, reaching forward to grip Prompto at the base of his dripping cock. “Not ‘til I’m done with you.”

“Gods,” Prompto breathes, and then doubles his efforts to bring Gladio to the edge. The pace is rough and quick, and it’s _working_. Gladio’s hands fly back to Prompto’s hips, forcing him down, not letting him get the height of thrust that he wants to.

“Shit, fuck,” Gladio curses, feeling the tightening in his balls, the slow spread of absolute pleasure from his pelvis ready to burst over him. He pitches Prompto forward again, face down into the mattress, driving himself as hard as he can into the keening man under him.

“Deeper,” Prompto pants, riding him for all he’s worth. “Come in me, please-”

Gladio cracks a hand hard against Prompto’s thigh, tired of telling him to keep his mouth shut. If commands won’t do, maybe pain will.

Prompto cries out with the strike, disobeying Gladio’s order not to come. The pulsing clench of his hole makes Gladio grit his teeth, trying to hang on just a little longer.

Gladio should really flip Prompto over and mark up his face with his climax, in punishment for his insubordination. But he can’t possibly pull out of the rippling grip of Prompto’s ass. He lets the sensation wash over him and bring him to his crest as he stills his hips, letting his release pump from him in an extended pulse, matched by his groan of completion.

Prompto lets himself be crushed into the mattress under Gladio’s boneless weight, until finally his breath is caught and he’s able to lever himself off of the smaller man.

“That good enough?” Gladio asks, gathering his wits again. “Will that get you to leave me alone? Finally getting what you wanted from me?”

“What?” Prompto asks, his voice trembling, his mind still recovering.

“You think I didn’t know why you were following me around all this time like a puppy?” Gladio laughs with cruelty. “Like I haven’t known since before everything went to shit.”

“I-” Prompto starts, staring up at the ceiling. “I wasn’t-”

“This is all you’ll get from me, Prompto,” Gladio says, a simmering anger bubbling in his gut at how infuriatingly good the sex was. “I’m not gonna be what you wanted. Just go home.”

“Huh,” Prompto says, after a moment, mostly to himself. “I thought for sure that would have done it.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Gladio spits. “Get out.”

“Sure thing, Big Guy,” Prompto sighs, pulling on his jeans and gathering the rest of his stuff. “Later.”

Prompto’s out the door and Gladio is suddenly even _more_ angry that he left without a fight. He rips one boot off his foot and throws it at the door, ricocheting off and knocking over a lamp in the process.

“Fuck,” He breathes, shoving his face into his hands.

~~~ 

“Hey, Iris,” Gladio says, picking up the call, for once. He’s laying in his bed as the first few rays of the sun creep up over the shorter buildings of the city.

“Gladdy!” Iris’s voice comes down the line, but it’s _wrong_. It’s what she sounded like when she was a teenager, when she was full of light and hope. Before the darkness took it from her. Before she became Iris the Daemon Slayer.

“Uh,” Gladio falters, not sure if what he’s hearing is some combination of a failure of technology and his own lack of sleep, or something else. “What’s up, kiddo?”

“He’s gonna be there, right?” Iris chirps with enthusiasm. “I can’t wait to see him!”

“What’re you-” Gladio pulls the phone away from his ear to check that he’s not accidentally listening to a voicemail from years ago.

It’s not. It’s a call directly from her number, her name and photo displayed as a clock counts the seconds that they’ve been connected.

“Iris, are you alright?” Gladio’s voice grows dark, as he sits up in bed. She could be trying to signal to him. “Are you in trouble? Say, ‘I need that part for my bike’, if you need me to come to you.”

“Gladdy, come on. Stop making fun of me,” Iris responds. “Noct is just so cool. I wanna hang with you guys. It’s not fair to exclude me because I’m a girl!”

Gladio remembers this conversation, years and years ago. When Iris wanted to come over for Gladio’s birthday party with just the guys.

But that wasn’t even a phone call they’d had. They’d had a fight about it, and Gladio remembers Iris storming off to her room, slamming the door behind her.

“Iris?” Gladio hesitates.

“You know, someday I’m gonna be old enough to date and you’re gonna have to get over it, Gladdy!”

And with that, the call is disconnected with a rhythmic, droning tone signalling that she’d hung up.

Gladio looks at the phone and then around his apartment, as if he’ll find himself in some kind of dream-world rather than his living quarters. But everything is the same as it was when he went to sleep, and the sun’s warmth bathes over him as it beams through the glass.

He glances back down at the device, brings up the phone function and presses Iris’s number.

It rings. And rings. And rings.

“Gladio, I’m really busy, can I call you back?” She says, her voice deeper and speech a lot more gruff. Like she’s been for years.

“Yeah, kiddo,” Gladio says.

“You gotta stop calling me that,” Iris grumps, and hangs up.

~~~ 

Gladio has to admit, maybe he’s not as good at moving on as he might have insisted.

It really hits him when he wakes up one morning, eyes bleary with lack of sleep, as he splashes his face in the bathroom sink. He’s trying to wake up, but it’s just not happening, even with the faucet running ice-cold. Finally, he scrubs a towel over his face, drying his beard as best he can.

Then, when he looks into the mirror, he’s not there.

But Noctis is.

Gladio jumps backwards, hits his shoulders and the back of his head against the doorframe. He grimaces, pinching his eyes shut as he feels for the beginnings of a goose-egg on his skull. And when he looks back at the mirror, Noct is gone.

It happens every day that week. Every morning, he wakes up, washes his face, and then there’s Noct. Staring out at him, looking worried. Pressing his hand to the surface of the glass as if he’s _right there_ but there’s some kind of invisible barrier between them.

Gladio is afraid to reach back. To touch the cold, hard surface of the mirror. As if it will break under his hand.

He covers the mirror up after a few days.

~~~ 

There’s a knock at his door again, timid and lacking any urgency.

Sure enough, Prompto is there, holding a plastic bag full with food, the scent enticing.

“Brought you some dinner,” He says, as if the last time they saw each other wasn’t a disaster. As if Gladio hadn’t forced him into sex, even if he did ultimately enjoy it.

“Why?” Gladio blinks at him, tired.

“Monica said you hadn’t been down in a couple of days,” Prompto pushes his way past Gladio and into the apartment. “I’m not gonna let you starve. Even if you can’t stand the sight of me.”

Gladio sighs.

“It’s not that I can’t stand the sight of you,” He replies, closing the door behind them and following Prompto into the kitchen. “It’s that I don’t want your pity.”

“I’m not pitying you,” Prompto argues. “I care about you, Gladio. And I wanted to help. I just… did it wrong. I tried to be gentle, but I should have known you’d just see that as me treating you like you were weak. I know you aren’t. But I also know you’re hurting.”

“And I’m really not interested in talking about it,” Gladio answers, thinking about the mirror. Thinking maybe he should have closed the bathroom door on the way by, so that Prompto doesn’t see the blanket draped over it and doesn’t ask any questions about it. He’s not sure he could come out of that conversation without Prompto setting up camp in his living room and spoon feeding him while he was tied up ‘for his own safety’.

“Fine, then. We won’t,” Prompto shrugs, pulling out some plates from the cupboard. “We’ll just eat.”

They sit in silence at the bar while they dine, not paying much attention to each other in favor of their food. Gladio worries about Prompto seeing the mirror, so he excuses himself for a moment and tears down the blanket, tossing it into his shower, all without looking into the surface.

When Gladio comes out of the bathroom, after flushing the toilet to really sell the lie, he finds Prompto shirtless, his pants undone and his shoes kicked off, standing next to Gladio’s bed.

“Prom,” Gladio starts, not sure where he’s going to finish.

“I want you,” Prompto says, softly. “I liked it, last time. I know you didn’t want me to. But if that’s what I can do for you, let me. Please?”

Gladio has to admit that a thrill shudders up his spine with the offer. Prompto has really filled out over the years. Once he was scrawny and toned, but now - his pecs are fuller, his abs are tight and defined, and his arms are thick with corded muscle. He’s still thin and petite as ever, but the years have been - well, not _kind_. Productive.

And it had been _exceptionally_ good, last time.

“This isn’t going to be about fixing me,” Gladio says.

“How would it?” Prompto counters. “Sex isn’t going to fix anything. But it’ll make the loneliness… less.”

“Alright,” Gladio answers, putting his hands in his pockets. “Get down on your knees.”

~~~ 

Night after night, Prompto shows up just after the sun sets, and morning after morning, he’s gone. Stays out of Gladio’s way while the work day goes by.

Gladio almost suggests that Prompto just _live_ in his place, but it sounds too much like some kind of emotional commitment that he’s not willing to summon into their strange relationship.

~~~ 

“Hey, anyone seen Cor, lately?” Gladio asks the ‘Glaives at the surface headquarters.

“He’s down in the subway, at the former HQ, honey,” Monica tells him from the back table. “He’s been heading up a recon team to make sure the tunnels are completely empty of both daemons and monsters.”

“Thanks, I’m gonna head down there and talk with him about the Citadel,” Gladio salutes her. “He’s the only one left that knows the inner workings of the building like the back of his hand.”

“Stay safe,” Monica nods. It’s nice to have her as a friend rather than having her treat him like he’s her superior. Without the kingdom, there’s no Shield and no hierarchy. It’s kind of like having a mom again. Not that he’d tell _her_ that.

The tunnels are still eerie, only because the last time that Gladio entered them was before the Long Night, and they were filled to the brim with commuters and citizens on-the-go. After that, they were teeming with daemons, and his focus was on getting through the swarm as quickly as possible.

Now the silence and the emptiness… it’s vast, and overwhelming. Liminal, in a way it really shouldn’t be.

He makes his way to the former ‘Glaive headquarters, lifting the shutter and stepping through the debris that _still_ hasn’t been cleared up.

It’s a lot more silent than it _should_ be, here next to the base, and it sets Gladio on edge when the creeping sensation of something _not right_ works its way up his spine.

He makes it to the door, pounding on it with a heavy fist, and the portal swings open under the force of it. Gladio knows, now, without a doubt, something has gone wrong down here.

He readies his stance, keeping his back to the wall as he nudges the door open further, until it is caught on something and will not budge. Easing his way inside, he glances around him, making sure there is nothing ready to get the better of him.

What he finds is _truly_ horrific.

Twelve ‘Glaives, torn apart. Their bodies splayed like toys dropped to the ground in boredom. Blood and viscera streaming from their guts, necks and limbs.

Gladio’s heart hammers in his chest as he flips them over, checking each of their faces, searching for the man he’d come to regard as family, the only _adult_ left in his life-

There, in the corner. The brown shock of hair shot with grey and white strands, now matted with blood. Laid respectfully on his back, his hands folded over his stomach. As if this were a mercy killing, and the murderer held a reverence for Cor and Cor alone.

Gladio throws up, violently. Falls to his knees, shaking. Lets himself let the tears flow over his sweating face.

It occurs to him that he needs to find out who or what did this. So he pushes himself back to his feet and tries to decipher what he’s seeing. He’s not Ignis, not when it comes to reading the clues. He’s the dog that is set on the scent once the direction has been determined.

There are blood streaks, spatters. Nothing like footprints. The wounds are definitely not from feral, instinctive creatures, the cuts are too precise, to calculated. Which is what he had already suspected. There hasn’t been a sign of a daemon in over a month.

Short, quick slashes. To the neck and the stomach. Defensive wounds on the forearms.

Not a sword, but a dagger. Two, if the amount of cuts are any evidence.

~~~ 

Gladio is waiting for Prompto when he knocks that night. Pacing the floor in front of his doorway.

“Where is Ignis?” Gladio asks, as he opens the door.

“I- I don’t know,” Prompto says, utterly confused. “I haven’t seen him in like a week.”

“But you know where he’s staying, right?” Gladio grabs Prompto by the shoulders. “You can find him.”

“He’s not really-” Prompto pries Gladio’s hands off of him. “He’s not really staying _anywhere_. He keeps moving around. I only ever see him when _he_ wants to see _me_.”

“He killed Cor,” Gladio seethes, storming into the living room. He sits down heavily on the sofa, leaning on his thighs with his elbows, threading his shaking fingers together.

“What?” Prompto blinks. “Why - why would he do that?”

“That’s what I’d like to know,” Gladio barks.

“Are you… sure?” Prompto asks.

“Who else do you know that could take out an entire squad of ‘Glaives?” Gladio asks, looking up at Prompto’s uneasy body language. “I’m _sure_. I just want to know _why_. I only found them all this afternoon. Who knows how long ago he did this.”

“Gladio,” Prompto steps closer to him, slowly and carefully. “I talked to Cor this evening. I planned to meet him tomorrow to check out the power to the Citadel.”

Gladio blinks up at him, brows furrowed and a tremor in his limbs. “No, that’s… not possible. I found him this afternoon, he was laid out like one of the Kings in their tombs - he was _fucking dead_.”

“I’ll call him, okay?” Prompto offers, taking his phone out. “You probably just had a bad dream-”

Gladio knocks the phone out of his hand. He doesn’t trust them, not anymore. Not since he got that call from teen Iris.

“You show him to me,” Gladio says. “Right now. Let’s go.”

“Alright,” Prompto nods. “Come on.”

~~~ 

It takes them all of five minutes to get to the building Cor has been staying in. He and Monica have been living together in his old office in the Crownsguard dorms, right next to the Citadel, since they arrived with reinforcements a week after the dawn arose.

The light is on in their place, on the ground floor, and Gladio can clearly see him and Monica having dinner together, Cor’s subtle smile quirking up the sides of his straight-line-mouth.

“It was him,” Gladio insists. “He was laying on his back, I saw his face.”

“It was just a bad dream,” Prompto says, putting comforting hands on Gladio’s upper arms. “Everything is alright.”

“No,” Gladio shakes his head. “No it isn’t.”

~~~ 

“Let me take care of you,” Prompto says, pushing Gladio back onto the mattress, his hands and voice soft. “Relax.”

“I don’t want you to baby me,” Gladio growls, trying to put some fire behind it, his grip on Prompto’s arms punishing.

“I’m not going to,” Prompto shakes his head, a small smile on his lips. “Trust me. Going slow isn’t bad. Let me.”

Gladio huffs a breath and lays back, unclenching his fists from Prompto’s biceps. He watches as the blond carefully unbuttons his pants and draws them down his legs, tugging his boxers off, too. Kissing down the left thigh, nipping at his knee before moving over to the other leg and giving it the same treatment.

The look in Prompto’s eyes and the delicate touches set his cock to twitching, and once Prompto is hovering just above it, he’s firm in the small but calloused hand.

“Gimme some room down here,” Prompto says, urging Gladio’s thighs apart. “Take a few deep breaths. You’re still pretty tense.”

“Yeah, ‘cause I want you to put your big mouth on my dick,” Gladio grumbles, trying to will his limbs to looseness.

“Don’t you trust me, yet?” Prompto grins. “Or at least, don’t you trust that I want your dick in my big mouth?”

“Mm,” Gladio grunts, not willing to commit to _any_ sort of trust in this new relationship they’ve entered into.

“Good enough for me,” Prompto grins, slowly jacking the base. He mouths at the tip, humming as he sucks and licks along the edge of Gladio’s foreskin. His lips slip up and over the bulb, tongue spearing at the slit and lapping up the precome just starting to form there.

Gladio breathes as evenly as he can while watching the fluttering lashes over pink, freckled cheeks, the sweat beginning to bead at his temple, the disarray of his light hair against his damp forehead. The slow strokes and soft suction, paired with the intermittent vibration of Prompto’s moans… it’s all going straight to his head, leaving him feeling dizzy and yet calm.

“How does that feel?” Prompto asks, his warm breath ghosting over Gladio’s length. A soft touch to his aching balls startles a small grunt from him, but it morphs into a long groan as Prompto’s hands work him in tandem.

“Really fucking good,” Gladio admits, opening his legs a little more to give Prompto free reign. “Somehow like I’m seconds from blowing my load, but also like I could let you go like this all night.”

“Which do you want?” Prompto asks, placing gentle kisses on Gladio’s lower belly. “I’ll do whatever you want me to.” His purple-blue eyes are intense, sincere, and their gaze pulses in Gladio’s cock.

“Gods,” Gladio pushes his head back against the pillows, breaking eye contact, arching a little into the touch of Prompto’s hands, and it feels like there’s at least six of them down there, all teasing at his aching core, feather-light yet firm.

“You want me to open you up?” Prompto asks, pushing his wet mouth down over the crown of Gladio’s dick once more, swirling his tongue around the sensitive flesh. A finger ghosts over his ass, questing but not intruding.

It’s been a long time since someone was inside _him_. Since before the roadtrip.

He can only nod in response, his hands fisted in the bedding, hips arching off the mattress.

“Relax,” Prompto says again. “Breathe. I’ve got you.”

Prompto sits up on his calves and adjusts Gladio’s legs the way he wants them, up and apart, soothing the movement with soft caresses to the expanse of his inner thighs. Gladio can feel the drip of his cock on his stomach, the throbbing length of him missing Prompto’s touch.

Before he knows it, there’s a slick hand at his entrance and one on his dick again, and Prompto’s back to working him carefully and expertly. After a long moment of his finger teasing at Gladio’s hole, he presses against it with the tip of the digit, just as his mouth once again claims the tip of Gladio’s cock.

It’s a diversionary tactic, and it’s working so, so well. The paired sensation of being breached, along with _breaching Prompto’s mouth_ is almost agonizing in the depth of sensation. Waves of pure pleasure radiating from his pelvis, straight up to his chest, like a softly burning star inside him.

Prompto pushes the limit of his throat as he adds another finger, and Gladio can’t decide which direction to thrust. He groans with effort, writhing under Prompto’s manipulations.

“Look at you, Big Guy,” Prompto breathes, a smile in his voice. “You’re like steel right now. And I haven’t even found what I’m looking for, yet.”

Gladio can’t look down, knows that if he sees that smug grin he’s going to shoot instantly. The fingers inside him are twisting, turning toward his cock, and then - a burst of unrestrained pleasure that coaxes a rough shout from deep in his belly.

“There it is,” Prompto laughs, lightly. He mouths at Gladios balls, noses at the base of his dick. “How do you feel now?”

“Close,” Gladio gasps, trying to desperately grab for the thing that will send him over the edge, pushing himself down onto Prompto’s fingers, begging him without words to make that burst happen again.

“Do you want me inside you?” Prompto asks, almost hesitant.

Gladio nods, fervently. “Yeah - ah! Please.”

Prompto only groans in response, and Gladio dares to open his eyes as he hears the slickening sound of his preparations. He only catches a glimpse of the shining, lubed surface of Prompto’s thick, pink cock before it’s being pressed against him. And then, he’s being filled, his body parting around Prompto’s generous length. It’s easy and so, so good, the fullness and the stretch, and then they’re fully joined together, Prompto’s hands holding Gladio’s thighs in place against the bed.

“Move,” Gladio pleads, trying to rock his hips in a satisfying way.

“Gimme a sec,” Prompto breathes, his eyes fluttering shut as he readjusts his position. “You feel so _good_ , Big Guy.”

“You too,” Gladio arches, still needy and unwilling to give up the fight to take his own pleasure.

“Okay,” Prompto nods, and pulls out slowly, right to the edge of his glans, before re-seating himself to the hilt inside Gladio, just as slowly.

“C’mon,” Gladio grits through his teeth. “Harder. Faster.”

“It’s not a race, Gladio,” Prompto sighs, continues his pace.

Gladio bites back his complaints, tries to concentrate on everything he’s feeling, trying to arch his hips in a way that will get some friction on his prostate. Then Prompto changes the angle and wraps a lubed hand over Gladio’s cock, and it’s like he’s coming for several long minutes, the pleasure cresting and _holding_. He spills in thick ropes across his belly, pulse after pulse, until Prompto releases him and chases his own end. Gladio’s not even in his right mind when Prompto comes inside him.

He comes back to his senses when Prompto brings a warm wet cloth to clean him, gently wiping his belly and his ass until he’s deemed fit to fall asleep.

Gladio reaches out to Prompto as he gets back off the bed to return the cloth to the bathroom, brushing fingers over his arm and taking his hand.

“Get some sleep, Big Guy,” Prompto smiles down at him.

And he does.

~~~ 

Gladio isn’t sure what wakes him, he feels like he’s been wrung out like a dishcloth. But he blinks awake in the darkness of the apartment, the moon high enough in the sky to cast a little light in through the windows. Shadows are long, and the bed next to him is still warm.

But Prompto isn’t there.

Then, a voice, soft, whispering. From the bathroom.

“I need more time with him,” Prompto says, pleading. “He’s not ready, yet. I’ll get him there.”

Gladio can barely keep his eyes open, and knowing this must be a dream, he doesn’t bother to try any harder. Lets his lids close against the pillow. Smiles when he feels Prompto curl around him under the covers. Drifts peacefully back into sleep.

Prompto is gone by the time he wakes up again, the daylight filtering through the living room.

~~~ 

“You moved the bed,” Prompto comments, as he walks in the door the next night, the living room now housing only the sofa and an armchair.

“Yeah, I was getting tired of the sun in my eyes in the morning,” Gladio smiles. “Go figure.”

“Yeah, that pesky sunlight,” Prompto grins. “I’m glad you were the first to admit it. I put up dark curtains in my place about two weeks into the daylight being back.”

“Meh,” Gladio shrugs. “We got used to the darkness. No shame in that. We adapted. Now we gotta re-adapt.”

“Guess so,” Prompto smiles. “Wanna go down to the kitchens and grab some dinner?”

“Already made somethin’,” Gladio says, leading Prompto by the shoulders into _his_ kitchen. “I’m not Iggy, but I tried.”

“It looks great,” Prompto says, blinking at the nicely-set dinner table. “Is this some kind of special occasion? We usually just eat at the bar.”

“Eh, I thought it might be nice to pretend we’re adults in a normal, functioning society for once.”

“Nice.”

They eat in silence, as usual, and it’s… good. Almost like it used to be. If only Ignis and -

Gladio stops the thought. It’s not healthy to cling to what once was, what can’t be any longer. He needs to make a _new_ life. So far, this one might do.

After dinner, they lounge on the sofa, Gladio reading a book and Prompto laying against him, playing with his phone. It’s comfortable.

Whatever Prompto did to him the last time they were together, it seems to have left Gladio feeling less like there was a gaping void inside him, pulling in all good feelings and spewing out anger and resentment.

They’d said sex wasn’t going to fix him, but it seems like maybe they were wrong. There’s a peace left behind. A hope for something new to begin.

~~~ 

They’re laughing, laying in bed together, reminiscing about the days before the darkness. Missing Noct and their easy camaraderie between the four of them. The conversation predictably turns to sadder times, when he thinks about Ignis, and how the man hasn’t had a moment to spend with them since the sun came back.

“I think I can almost pinpoint the moment everything got shot to hell,” Gladio says, holding Prompto close in the pitch black of his bedroom.

“Me too,” Prompto sighs, a laugh on his exhale. “I was born. No, sorry, I was genetically cloned in a military science lab.”

“Okay, well, you win the Pain Olympics,” Gladio chuckles softly. “But no. It was fine up until about 10 years, one month ago. When we got off the boat in Altissia.”

“Well, yeah,” Prompto nuzzles Gladio’s shoulder, settling in for a deep talk in the darkness. “Pretty much the moment the _four_ of us decided to defend Altissia from the _entire_ Niflheim army, we were screwed.”

“I should’ve been by his side,” Gladio says into the lightlessness. “I could’ve protected him, and Luna. Hell, that was my only fucking purpose. Why did I think that I could leave Noct to fend for himself?”

“We all went along with the plan,” Prompto says, a deep exhaustion in his words. “I could barely hold my gun in the right direction, and I was like ‘oh, sure, Noct! I’ll make sure these MTs don’t do too much damage to the city!’ What the hell were any of us thinking?”

“Ignis did it, you know,” Gladio sighs. “Paid a heavy price for it. For my fuck-up. So did Luna. And what did I do, for Noct? I screamed at him. Made him feel even worse. Because _I_ failed.”

Prompto is quiet, still.

“I hurt you, too,” Gladio says, a hard lump of guilt lodged in his throat. “I shouldn’t have pushed you like that, I shouldn’t have lashed out when I was all messed up inside-”

“Gladio-”

“I never apologized, and then the next day, you were gone. I just… kept making things worse.”

“We can’t change anything that already happened,” Prompto says, brushing a calming hand down Gladio’s stomach. “We just have to face it, and move forward, right? That’s all you were trying to tell Noct back then. You just… kinda sucked at it.”

“Thanks,” Gladio says, staring up into the void of his ceiling.

“Tough love, Big Guy,” Prompto smiles against his chest. Gladio can feel it.

“Yeah,” Gladio rolls over, pinning Prompto underneath his weight. “I’ll show you tough love.”

~~~ 

“So, before... we didn’t really get a chance to catch up,” Prompto says one evening, out of the blue. “When… Noct came back from the Crystal. Everything was kind of hectic after. You said something about a girl? What happened with her?”

“Uh,” Gladio puts down his book and cards fingers through Prompto’s hair. “That was all bullshit.”

Prompto sits up, a look of disbelief. “ _You_ made up a girlfriend?”

Gladio shrugs, pressing his lips together. “I didn’t want you guys to think - to _know_ \- I was wandering around miserable and alone. And you were all ‘Oh, I don’t kiss and tell’ about Cindy, so…”

“Yeah, of course I was gonna tell Noct _that_!” Prompto laughs. “He’d have given me hell for not hooking up in ten years!”

“But you did,” Gladio says, an eyebrow raised. “You must have.”

“Wh-why do you-”

“Prom,” Gladio levels him a look. “Come on.”

“I was lonely,” Prompto sighs. “He was… around. That’s all I wanna say about it.”

Gladio blinks. He wasn’t expecting that the answer was… just one person. Expected it had been a series of flings, like he had, for a short while at the beginning of the Long Night. He wonders who it might have been. If he knows him.

“You didn’t think Noct would be cool with you seeing a guy?”

“We weren’t… seeing each other,” Prompto gives him a look that says this will be the last they’ll be speaking about this subject. “We were fucking. When we were in the same place, and it was convenient. I didn’t think that’d particularly impress my best friend, no.”

“Fair,” Gladio shrugged. “I guess I can’t judge. I did the same thing, essentially. Just didn’t think you had it in you.”

“Oh, I had it _in me_ -”

“Stop! No!” Gladio presses a hand over his eyes. “I walked right into that one. Astrals.”

They share a laugh, settling back together. It’s comfortable. Safe. Most of all, warm.

~~~ 

Prompto is on his hands and knees on the sofa, taking Gladio to the hilt, when Gladio’s phone trills violently, buzzing across the coffee table as they try to ignore it. It goes silent just as Gladio pulls them backwards, letting Prompto sit in his lap, gasping with the change in position. He finds his footing and lays back against Gladio’s chest, working his hips as best he can with the exhaustion of their marathon session creeping into his legs.

The phone rings again.

“Damn it,” Gladio groans, holding Prompto to still his movements, breathing hard. He reaches for the phone, causing Prompto to squawk with the jostling. “It’s Iris. She never calls more than once.”

“I’ll be quiet,” Prompto says, a devilish smile tugging at his mouth. Gladio rolls his eyes.

“When have you ever?” He tosses the device to the other side of the sofa, where the buzzing won’t be so insistent. “She can leave a voicemail.”

Gladio picks them up off the couch, keeping them connected in a ridiculous show of strength and fortitude, and takes Prompto roughly against the wall. Prompto is on his tip-toes, trying to stay tall enough to ease their joining.

“I wanna see your face,” Gladio breathes, lifting Prompto’s left leg and urging him to brace himself on the wall with one shoulder, turning more to the side. From this angle, Gladio’s getting deeper, and Prompto’s got one hand in his hair, pulling him closer for their mouths to meet. With Prompto’s leg in the crook of Gladio’s elbow, they’re contorted, but the point of union is so sweet that it’s drowning all of the other stuff out.

“There, Big Guy, right there-” Prompto begs after breaking their kiss. “I’m-”

Prompto chokes out a cry, and Gladio is right there with him. He shifts his stance to get a little extra leverage with his final thrusts, until he’s emptying himself inside and delivering biting kisses to the pink lips begging desperately for his attention.

After a moment, Gladio’s legs start to give out, so he helps Prompto to stand and wobbles back to the sofa, almost landing bare-assed onto his phone. Prompto falls a bit more gracefully beside him, wrapping his arms around Gladio’s stomach as he presses sighing kisses to the swell of Gladio’s left pectoral.

Gladio remembers that Iris had been calling. There’s a message.

He taps the button for the speakerphone, too tired to hold the device to his ear.

“Gladio, I don’t know what climbed up your ass but I’m done with it,” She is _furious_. And Gladio has _no idea_ what she’s talking about. He looks over at Prompto who is similarly shocked, as her message goes on. “Quit harassing Talcott, and quit calling here every day. We’re all busy, and we don’t have time for whatever this is.”

Gladio stares down at the phone, all of his sated sleepiness completely wiped.

“What’s she talking about?” Prompto asks, concerned, but not pulling away.

“I-” Gladio is afraid to go on, to admit to Prompto that he’s got no idea why she’d accuse him of all of _that_ , not when he’s been so busy himself with the restoration-

He searches his memories of earlier in the day, trying to remember what he was doing. Where he was working. There’s just… nothing. He remembers waking up, feeling the bed for Prompto, finding himself alone. Then, washing up and getting dressed, putting on his boots and walking out the door - but then, nothing. The next memory is when he walked in the door of his place and cooked dinner for the two of them.

“Big Guy,” Prompto breaks him out of his thoughts, sitting up and putting careful hands on his chest. “You’re shaking.”

“Prom,” Gladio finally meets his eyes, and the drawn brows are almost too much to bear. “I… I think I’m losing it.”

“What do you mean?”

“I can’t remember… anything,” He says, terrified of what it could mean. “I don’t remember what I did today. Or yesterday. I don’t know what Iris is talking about, but I also don’t know what I’ve been up to. I could have been doing exactly as she says.”

“I’m sure you didn’t,” Prompto says, looking up at him sympathetically. “You’ve been getting no sleep, between work and when we’re together. You’re just exhausted. I’m sure this is just a little prank that Iris is playing-”

“Iris wouldn’t play a prank like this,” Gladio insists. “She hasn’t had time for jokes ever since Cor let her start hunting. Prom, what have I been doing?”

“Let’s just try to get you some sleep,” Prompto says, pulling him off the sofa and into the bedroom. “I’ll call Iris and see if I can get to the bottom of this, okay?”

“Don’t go,” Gladio asks, hands shaking. “Please. Just… stay tonight?”

“I will,” Prompto nods. “Let’s get you settled.”

~~~ 

Despite Prompto’s promise, Gladio wakes up alone again.

He stands at the wall of windows, coffee cup in hand, staring out at what he can see of the city. The Citadel’s courtyard has been completely cleared of debris, the fountains restored and running just as they were before he’d left Insomnia.

He doesn’t remember seeing the progress of that work being done. Doesn’t know who was assigned to it. Assumes Prompto had something to do with getting things working again. But he can’t _remember_.

Prompto had left, again. With no evidence that he’d spoken to Iris, or found anything to help Gladio understand what was happening to him. Maybe he talked to her, and discovered that Gladio had done something so awful that he didn’t want to be around when Gladio woke up.

Or maybe all of this... the _entire_ thing between them isn’t even real.

It certainly doesn’t make any sense. He’d been so cruel, and so dismissive. But Prompto had come back, chipper as ever, and offered himself to Gladio with no strings and no explanations. No expectations.

And that inner peace he’d felt, after Prompto had pampered him. It was like something out of one of his romance novels.

He’d thought about asking Prompto to move in. Started building a plan for his life that included the blond. Featured him prominently, in fact.

Has it all been just a fabrication of his permanently twisted mind? Where is he, right now, if he isn’t really _here_ in his apartment?

Something draws him back to the bathroom, to the mirror. There hasn’t been an incident since Prompto started coming around every night. But he also can’t remember being alone, in the recent weeks.

The blanket is gone. The reflection is black in the darkness.

There’s a knock at his door. Even after all of this time, Prompto still won’t enter uninvited.

~~~ 

“Hey, Big Guy,” Prompto smiles, reaching up on his toes to plant a kiss on Gladio’s mouth. He’s carrying another care package of food for dinner, the aromatic scent tickling in Gladio’s nose as he moves through to the kitchen.

Gladio stares after him, utterly dumbfounded by the casual attitude when _he’s_ been pacing around his apartment all day, wondering if he’s gone mad.

“Prom,” Gladio says, following him. “Did you talk to Iris?”

“Huh?” Prompto says, pulling out the containers of food, his eyebrows drawn in confusion. “Not since about a week ago, why?”

He has to grip the counter, because he feels like falling onto the floor in defeat.

“I’m… _shit_ ,” He shakes his head, as if _that_ will clear it. Bring focus. Bring back a shred of sanity.

Prompto doesn’t even seem to notice his distress.

“Ahhhh, I’m super hungry. Had a busy day,” Prompto says, grabbing utensils from the drawer opposite the bar. “You’d think the electricians of the Citadel would have had their act together, but the whole thing is a tangled mess. It’s taking forever to work through.”

“Prompto,” Gladio says, trying to even out his breathing. “What did we do last night?”

The blond pauses for a moment, facing away, then turns slowly, a pink flush to his cheeks. “You want a play-by-play, or can I be vague?”

“You don’t remember the phone call I got from Iris?” Gladio can feel the frustration and fear gripping him, spreading deep into his marrow. “What she accused me of?”

There’s a flicker across Prompto’s face, for just a moment, and then he’s looking at Gladio with an expression of pitiful amusement. “Big Guy, did you hit your head at the work site today?”

“You’re fucking with me,” Gladio breathes, letting the frustration melt into _anger_. “You’re pretending you don’t know what I’m talking about. Why… why are you doing this?”

“Gladio, calm down,” Prompto moves to his side, guiding him over to the sofa and seating them both. “What’s going on?”

Gladio lays back, his neck bent over the top edge of the couch, staring blindly up at the ceiling. “I think something is really wrong with me.”

“Tell me,” Prompto urges him to sit up, to face his gaze.

“Everything’s… wrong,” Gladio says, pushing a hand through his hair, feeling the sweat gathering at his temple. “I’m seeing things… hearing things. I keep thinking things are happening, are _real_ , but then they’re not. Do you remember when I told you about Cor?”

“I remember,” Prompto says, sympathetic. “I thought after that you’d started to feel better.”

“I did,” Gladio sighs. “But last night, I got a call from Iris, and I put it on speaker. You were right here, right next to me.”

“That must have been a dream, too, Big Guy,” Prompto tries to sooth him with a soft caress to his cheek, but Gladio brushes him off, standing, indignant.

“No, it wasn’t! You were _right there_. You said you would call her, you’d find out what she meant.”

“What did she say, Gladio? In this dream?”

“It _wasn’t a dream!_ ” He roars, lifting the edge of the coffee table and sending both his phone and his leftover mug flying along with the table. The mug shatters into a dozen pieces, leaving a brown stain, a splatter like blood against the door.

“Gladio,” Prompto tries, standing, attempting to guide him back down to the sofa with firm hands on both of Gladio’s shoulders. “Breathe and think.”

Gladio fights against Prompto’s urging. He is tired, he is desperate, and he can’t trust anything he perceives. Everything he thinks is real is turned on its head the moment he believes in it.

“When we saw the dawn break, what happened right before that?” Prompto asks him, and Gladio grimaces at the question, the subject so far from important to him in this moment. “It will ground you a little. Distract your mind. Think back.”

“I don’t _want_ to think back,” Gladio pushes away again, pacing. He catches a glimpse of the mirror in the bathroom, something in his gut telling him that all he needs to do is look there, now, while Prompto is with him, and if Noct is there… well. Maybe that’s how he’ll know what’s real and what isn’t. “I want to think ahead.”

“Where are you going?” Prompto is close behind him, and Gladio pushes the door fully open, letting the light of the outer room filter in. Backlighting him against the cold glass surface. Casting a shadow over the reflection.

It’s his own reflection there, but where Prompto is standing - it’s _him_.

The wine-red hair, the scruffy chin. The man that would be king, the man that snuffed out the line of men that proudly lead Lucis.

Whipping around, Gladio grabs Prompto by the neck, shaking him, teeth clenched with unbridled rage.

“You monster,” Gladio spits into the gasping face. “I should have known. It was all too good to be true. How did you come back? I saw you crumble to ash!”

“Gladio-” Prompto chokes, pulling at the persistent grip with both hands, his face reddening with the pressure on his arteries and windpipe. “Stop- I’m not-”

“You think I’m going to believe that?” Gladio growls, pushing his face closer to the slowly purpling face. “After what Noct told us you did the last time, with Prompto? Just show your face, you fucking _coward_ , and tell me how you’re not dead while my best friend _is._ ”

The blond sputters, unable to retort any further, and resorts to scratching at Gladio’s forearms. Gladio stares down impassively, trying to ignore the desperation, pain and fear on the creature with his friend’s face.

Seemingly giving in to his fate, the imitation tries one last-ditch attempt to dissuade Gladio by pressing a gentle hand to his face - and somehow that fills Gladio with even more volcanic rage than before. This _thing_ stole Prompto’s body and made him believe they were _something_. Made him have hope that there was going to be more, a future, something he could look forward to when he thought there was nothing left.

With a hard twist of his wrist, he jerks the monster’s neck and hears a harsh _crack_ as it’s broken. The result is instantaneous - all fight bleeds out, the body limp and empty. Gladio throws it to the ground, waiting with his breath held for the figure to take its true form.

It takes very little time for Gladio to realize that his expectations are dashed to the wind - the body doesn’t shiver with the shift of reality, it simply lays there, as discarded as the bodies he’d found in the subway those few weeks before.

It crawls up into his brain, slow like a glacier, freezing him where he stands. Hoping, even praying that he will wake up in his bed, and after his entire day is blanked out, will open his door to the smiling face of the man lying dead on his floor.

Dead.

He’s… dead.

Because Gladio lost his cool, lost his _fucking mind_ , and threw hands at him, _again._

The first time wasn’t a lesson enough.

Gladio feels a fissure in his chest, a slow spread of fault lines along his body. And just as he falls to his knees, sure that his heart is going to burst in his chest, the building around him shakes as though Titan himself has come to rain down divine punishment.

He hopes the building will crush him, and quickly.

“Gladio!” Ignis’s voice calls, from where, Gladio can’t tell. He can barely hear the call from beyond the drum beat of his pulse in his ears and his own impotent cries.

“Gladio, _look_ at me,” Ignis demands, kneeling before him with harsh fingers digging into Gladio’s shoulders, and even from within the splitting grief, Gladio complies. The ceiling is chipping, dust and debris falling from above them, and despite the imminent danger, Gladio is numb. “You have to wake up! Now!”

Gladio thinks that if this is another of his nightmares, he’ll never go to sleep again once he’s awake. But he is so sure that this _is_ awake, he can’t see how he’s supposed to open his eyes and escape this.

Prompto coughs from the floor, his body no longer limp and broken, and pushes himself off the carpet, blinking and terrified by everything collapsing around them.

“Ignis,” Prompto frowns up at him, eyes wild with fear. “I told you it would push him too hard!”

“He’s got to wake up, Prompto,” Ignis says back, through tight teeth. “He’s had his fun. It’s time to face reality!”

“He _can’t_ ,” Prompto insists. “Look at what’s happening!”

Gladio wants to feel joy that Prompto isn’t gone, that he hasn’t done the unthinkable, but as he reaches out to grasp the emotion, there’s nothing there. Nothing to cling to. A slow funnel sucking everything away from him, even as his mind reels from the sight of Prompto standing, breathing, worried.

“No, no,” Prompto breathes, grasping Gladio’s face. “We’re losing him.”

“There’s nothing we can do now,” Ignis says. “We tried. We failed. We can lose Gladio, or we can lose ourselves, Prompto. We have to get out of here.”

“I’m not leaving,” Prompto says, determined. Gladio stares into the periwinkle irises dancing over his own face, the tears gathering in the corners, and feels stuck inside his own body. He wants to raise his arms and comfort the blond, to tell him he’s sorry, but he can’t seem to move.

The coldness is creeping in more deeply.

“Gladio,” Prompto whispers to him. “You need to remember. Please. It’s the only thing that will save you, and save me, too. Think. What happened just before the sky cleared and we saw the sun rise again?”

“Prompto-”

“Ignis, just wait!” Prompto shouts, as the crumbling worsens. “Gladio, please. I won’t leave you. Just please, try.”

_What happened just before…_ Gladio flinches away from the memory, but he can see that it’s _important_ , vital, he needs to just push past the pain and into it -

_They had been overwhelmed._

_The Kings of Lucis shone bright against the inky backdrop of the sky, aglow in their majesty, summoned by **his** King, his purpose… a purpose that is about to end-_

_The Ronin’s blade hits its mark, slipping neatly between his ribs, the flick of its wrist slashing cleanly through the thickness of his chest, severing most of his upper body from the rest of him._

_“Gladio!” Prompto had cried, and he remembers small arms trying to hold him up, but they had only succeeded in tearing him open further. A catch in his throat, and a hot spurt of blood from his mouth as he coughs around the discomfort._

_A shot rings out near his head and there is a slump against him, on top of him, a weight not insignificant. Blond hair tickles at his face._

_The last of them holds out until he, too, is fallen atop Gladio’s legs._

_**He died.** _

_They **all** had._

_The dawn had never come, not for the four of them, anyway._

Gladio’s lungs burn as he inhales, as if he hasn’t breathed in weeks, and Prompto is smiling down at him, tears dripping into his face. He’s on his back, under Prompto’s hands, trying to rise. The building is still shaking, still dropping bits of itself on top of them.

“He’s not yet stable,” Ignis says from behind Prompto, standing, looking like he’s about to run. “What’s your plan, now? We’re in real danger.”

“He’s coming to,” Prompto argues. “Give him a minute. It was easy for you.”

“Easy,” Ignis scoffs. “Remind me that you said that, when we’ve gotten out of this.”

“Sure, sure,” Prompto returns his attention to Gladio, wiping his own tears from his face and then Gladio’s. “Can you sit up?”

“We’re… dead,” Gladio says in response.

“Yeah, Big Guy,” Prompto says gently. “You couldn’t accept it, that we lost him. But at the same time, you couldn’t let yourself be with him again. Like it was a punishment. But you drew us in, too. We’re stuck here, with you. You have to let it go.”

“I don’t-”

“We can all be together, again,” Prompto says. “You just have to admit it to yourself. This isn’t real, Gladio. We’re gone. But we can move forward, with Noct, and Luna, and everyone else we lost. But we need you to let it happen.”

It _sounds_ right, what Prompto is saying, but a part of him, some small thing in the pit of his stomach, is clinging to _this_. This place where he was moving toward something new, unexpected, and full of promise.

Gladio glances past the two of his friends, into the darkened bathroom, at the mirror. He sees Noct and Luna, smiling at him, and beyond them… Ardyn.

“This is a mind game,” Gladio shakes his head. “It’s _him_. He’s trying to drag us down into darkness again.”

“It isn’t,” Ignis insists. “Gladio, I remember everything. I’ve remembered it since I was pulled into this delusion. I died, Gladio, and I was proud. I was going to be with him again. And you’re stealing that from me.”

“Ignis,” Prompto says, gently. “He’s not doing it on purpose. He’s not trying to hurt you. He’s trying to protect himself.”

“Stop, stop assuming you know what I’m doing.” Gladio pushes Prompto away.

“Gladio,” Prompto sighs. “I know exactly what you’re doing. Because it wasn’t just you - I did it, too. I let this reality become true for me, for a while. Until Ignis and Noct coaxed me out of it. I didn’t want to believe, either. But you’re the last of us to hold out, and so now it’s yours to throw away. Please.”

“Things are getting better,” Gladio insists. “We’re rebuilding. We’re- ”

Prompto smiles sadly at him. “You feel safe here. But it’s incomplete, don’t you think? Like it was for ten years. We had him back for so little time. We could have this, along with everything else we want, all of it, for a very _long_ time.”

“This isn’t going to work. He’s as stubborn as he ever was,” Ignis sighs. “Even after the tableau I left him in the subway, he’s still insistently clinging to this.”

“So you _did_ do it,” Gladio’s brows draw over his darkening eyes.

“I had to do something,” Ignis replies, coolly. “Prompto has too soft a touch when it comes to you.”

“Cor’s not really here, Gladio,” Prompto assures him, holding him back from charging at Ignis. “Everything is now all a product of your mind, except us.”

“If you please, try to untangle the thread and set us free.” Ignis folds his arms across his chest.

“How?” Gladio blinks at them both. “I can’t tell this from reality. I mean, now it’s kinda breaking down, of course.”

“Yeah,” Prompto says, gently. “And if you don’t get us outta here before it does, we’re gonna be lost forever.”

“I don’t know how - what should I do?” Gladio pushes himself to stand, glancing around at the slowly deteriorating integrity of his apartment.

“There!” Prompto points at the window wall, now broken open, a frame of jagged glass around the outside world. “Look out there, Gladio. It’ll help you realize that this _isn’t_ real. It’s not enough for us to tell you. You have to _know_ it.”

Gladio hesitates, afraid of what he’ll see out there. Inside has been horrific enough.

The sky is grey but not black, not like it had been through the ten years of Night. Clouds are melting toward the ground, like a thick, angry fog. The pavement is cracked open in the center of the courtyard of the Citadel, the vibrant gold and crimson magma seeping out of the fissures, glowing with an incandescence that burns his eyes even from this distance. Beyond the courtyard, the rest of the city is gone - the ground broken, and the grey, mournful sky spreading beyond what Gladio can see.

“This isn’t a hopeful place, Gladio,” Prompto says, softly. “It’s the absence. It’s _worse_ than death. You don’t have to hang on to it. Everyone who is still alive - they’re going to remake our world. They’ll be okay. And so will we. You just have to take a leap of faith.”

Gladio looks down, into the sprawling infinity below his building, letting the enormity of what he’s being asked to do wash over him. Letting his fear and his anticipation war with his faith in both Prompto and Ignis. There’s so much to lose, if they’re a lie. And so much that might be left behind, even in this unreality.

“What about _this_?” Gladio asks, slipping his hand into Prompto’s as they stand in front of the apocalyptic scene before them. “Was this real?”

“It wasn’t supposed to be,” Prompto admits, casting his eyes down. His fingers squeeze tight. “I thought it would be _so strange_ that it would make you see that everything was wrong here. But then, I began to want it, too. To stay here with you. But it can’t last, and it isn’t fair to Ignis, Gladio.”

“Where are we going to go?” Gladio asks, turning toward Ignis. “When we leave here, what will happen?”

“We’ll be with _them_ , Gladio,” Ignis answers. “Finally. Let it go.”

Gladio turns to Prompto. “I’m not sure I can do this on my own.”

“For you to admit that, it really must be outside of reality,” Prompto smiles. “You won’t be alone. I won’t let you.”

“You’re sure?” Gladio asks, folding his arms around the smaller man. “When we’re _there_ , you’ll still want _this_?”

“Hey,” Prompto says, muffled into Gladio’s chest, even as he tries to look up and into the face above him. “Trust me, Big Guy.”

“Can’t say no to those eyes,” Gladio says with a grin, releasing him and threading their fingers together.

He turns to Ignis, holds out his hand, ready to step off the edge. To take the leap.

“Let’s go.”

**Author's Note:**

> I _do not_ like the Royal Edition's retcon that the boys lived to see the dawn. Sorry. This was my response to it.


End file.
